


sweet

by clexawarrior



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Domesticity, F/F, Fluff, KE Week 2020, Killing Eve Week - Day 6, grumpy!eve, persistent!villanelle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:20:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26309956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clexawarrior/pseuds/clexawarrior
Summary: Eve always spends her birthday alone. She's done so for the past seventeen years, but it seems that this year a certain blonde has other plans for her. And no amount of arguing will change her mind.Killing Eve Week Day 6 - Domesticity
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Comments: 12
Kudos: 107
Collections: Killing Eve Week 2020





	sweet

**Author's Note:**

> I'm gonna apologize for the angst up front. I meant for this to be a cute little fluff piece about Eve and Villanelle baking a cake together, but somehow this happened instead. I hope you guys enjoy it!

Eve hates birthdays.

Birthdays are a reminder of every year she dreamed of being normal, of getting excited and celebrating like everyone else. She always pictured her mom getting her a cake and singing to her and then cheering as she blew out the candles. But she doesn't remember ever having that. She's sure she did at some point have a happy birthday, with loads of candles and cake and presents, but she doesn't remember it, and each year only serves as a reminder of that.

The only memory she has is of the afternoon of her fifth birthday. Her mom picked her up from school early, at lunch time, and took her out for ice cream. On the way home, her mom bought her a big blue balloon…and that's it. She doesn't remember that night. She doesn't remember the cake. She doesn't remember the presents. The only memories she has of eating cake are with her foster families, and those parties were always sad at best. She remembers the stupid party hats the parents would buy for the kids, most of whom didn't want to be there. She remembers the weary looks on the parents' faces when they should have been smiling. Eve always used to wonder why they were never smiling, why they didn't want her.

Today, and every birthday since, Eve doesn't want to remember any of those things. She only wants to remember her mom. So she spends her birthday alone. It doesn't matter that her colleagues always want to throw her a party or that her girlfriend wants to spend time with her. The day she moved out of her last foster home, Eve vowed to herself she'd never have a sad excuse for a party ever again.

When she gets out of bed and looks out the window, she's surprised to see that it's snowing. It doesn't snow very much in London, but it's snowing today, and she doesn't know how she feels about it. On the one hand, it will be cold outside. On the other, it will be beautiful.

Eve takes her time getting dressed and ready, in no rush whatsoever, and then she pulls on her coat and boots and heads off into the weather. She finds she doesn't mind the biting wind against her cheeks and will gladly endure it in exchange for the blanket of sparkling white that's now covering every surface. At least the universe is making an effort for Eve's birthday.

She walks to the same ice cream shop her mom took her to when she turned five, and warmth fills her heart at the familiar sweet smells that fill the air when she goes inside. She orders chocolate ice cream with chocolate sprinkles, just as she had that day so many years ago, and then takes it over to sit at the same little table by the window.

As she begins to eat her ice cream, the rich flavor spreading across her tongue, Eve wishes she could remember more about her mother. She remembers what she looks like, but she doesn't know if that's strictly from memory or from the photos of the two of them that she carried with her throughout her life, from foster home to foster home. Eve has her mother's hair, so even on the days when it's most difficult to take care of, it's Eve's favorite of her features.

Eve does remember her mom's laugh, warm and hearty, and she remembers the pillow forts they used to build together some nights after her mom returned from work. She remembers the way her mom used to sing her heart out to her old records and dance around their small apartment. Eve would always dance along too, even though she didn't know all the words to the songs.

Her birthday is both the best and worst day of the year for Eve. It's the day she feels closest to her mother, but it's also the day she's reminded of everything she lost.

After ice cream, Eve stops at the grocery store and picks out a big blue 'Happy Birthday' balloon. She completely bypasses the bakery. The only thing she buys is the balloon.

As she walks the short distance back to her small house, she hopes the passersby think she's bringing this balloon home for her child and don't suspect she's some loser who's spending her big day holed up alone in her house. Tears blur her vision, and she does her best to blink them away, quickening her pace. She wishes her mom would be at home waiting for her. She wishes her mom was the one bringing her this balloon.

When Eve gets in the house, she takes off her boots and leaves them by the door before pulling off her coat, which she hangs on the rack to the side of the small entryway. Then, she heads into the kitchen, swallowing the lump that rises in her throat as she ties the balloon to the back of her chair, just like her mom did for her thirty years ago. She looks up at the balloon with a small smile, and for a moment, Eve is turning five again. For a moment, her mom is only in the other room, grabbing a Sharpie.

Eve considers writing a message on the balloon like her mom did, but she ultimately decides against it, as she does every year. Writing a message for herself would be too sad.

Needing something to do, Eve walks over to the coffee machine and grabs a mug down from the cupboard over the counter. She doesn't even really want coffee, but she begins brewing some anyway, taking comfort in the small brown stream that steadily spills down into the mug.

That's when the doorbell rings, and Eve jumps in surprise. Who would be at her door, today of all days? Once, three years ago, Elena and Kenny from the office showed up here on Eve's birthday and tried to throw her a small party only for Eve to immediately turn them away, feeling like dirt afterwards for disappointing them. She hopes she won't have to deal with a similar situation today, hopes it's only some door-to-door salesman she can ignore.

When Eve gets to the door, though, she finds none other than Villanelle, her girlfriend of two months whom she very explicitly told that she wanted to be left alone today. Eve lets out a loud groan before pulling the door open.

"What part of 'I always spend my birthdays by myself and would very much like to keep it that way' did you not understand?" Eve snaps.

"No need to be so harsh." Villanelle's eyes widen dramatically. "No one should ever be alone on their birthday."

Eve sighs. She met Villanelle shortly after the 27-year-old started working in the fashion department of the magazine Eve writes for. Eve ignored the spark between the two of them at first, not one to open her heart up very easily, but Villanelle was persistent in her advances, not giving up until Eve finally admitted that okay, yes, so maybe she was a bit attracted to Villanelle as well. Eve's a fool for thinking Villanelle's persistence wouldn't apply to this situation too.

"I like being alone on my birthday," Eve insists. "It's a tradition for me, and I'd appreciate if you'd respect that and leave me alone."

Villanelle holds out the bouquet of red and white roses she's got in her hand. "At least let me come inside and help you put these in a vase."

"It's my birthday, not my funeral." Eve rolls her eyes.

"If it was your funeral, I would have gotten lilies," Villanelle answers with a smile.

Eve's mind races as she tries to think of some way to get rid of Villanelle without letting her inside. It seems nothing will put out Villanelle's good mood, and Eve suspects Villanelle bought the flowers for her with the sole hope that they would be her ticket inside. Eve likes Villanelle, sure. She would even go as far as to say she likes her a lot, at this point. But that doesn't mean she wants to spend her birthday with her. Eve wants to spend her birthday alone with the memory of her mom.

"Please?" Villanelle asks when Eve doesn't respond. "Can I come in?"

She gives Eve a puppy dog look, and Eve's resolves crumbles at the sight of those big hazel eyes. She could never say no to that look.

"Fine," she grumbles, "but only for the two minutes it will take for me to find a vase, fill it with water, and put the flowers in it."

Villanelle smiles, counting this as a victory, but Eve means it. Villanelle is lucky she's even getting to come inside at all today. It's more than anyone else has ever gotten in the past seventeen years.

Eve leads the way down the hall into the kitchen, where she immediately begins rummaging through the cabinet under the sink to find a vase. She doesn't want to talk to Villanelle any more than she has to. She knows that if anyone has a chance to convince Eve to let them stay, it's Villanelle. Eve doesn't want to give her that chance.

When Eve finally finds a vase tucked in the back corner of the cabinet, she grabs it and stands up to find Villanelle studying the balloon Eve tied to the back of her chair.

"Who got that for you?" Villanelle asks. "Is someone else here?"

"I got it for myself," Eve grunts.

Villanelle waits for Eve to elaborate, but Eve doesn't, instead turning to the sink and filling up the vase with water.

"Were you making coffee?" Villanelle asks not two seconds later.

Eve glances over to the coffee machine to see her forgotten mug of coffee waiting for her. There's no longer a trail of steam rising from it. She never even really wanted it in the first place.

"I was," she says. "I'm sure it's gone cold by now, though."

Villanelle shrugs and reaches for the mug herself, bringing it to her lips and taking a hearty swig. To her credit, she doesn't grimace.

Eve hopes the task of drinking the coffee will keep Villanelle quiet for the next several seconds. It doesn't.

"Where's the cake?" Villanelle asks not a second later.

_Goddamn, can this woman be quiet for more than two seconds at a time?_

Usually, Eve loves Villanelle's enthusiasm and childlike nature, but she isn't in the mood to deal with it today.

"I don't get cakes for my birthday," Eve answers as she places the flowers into the vase.

Villanelle's brows furrow. "Do you not like them?"

"I like them." Eve crosses the room to place the vase of flowers on the table. "I just can't bring myself to buy one."

"Lucky I prepared for that." Villanelle produces a Betty Crocker vanilla cake mix box from her purse with a wide grin.

"No," Eve says immediately.

"I was thinking we could bake a cake together." Villanelle goes on as if Eve hasn't spoken.

"No," Eve says again, shaking her head vehemently. "You're not staying, and we're not making a cake together. We can make a cake for your birthday, but today you're leaving, and there's nothing you can do to change my mind."

Hurt flickers in Villanelle's eyes, and Eve instantly regrets what she said. But then a look of concern washes over Villanelle's features, and Eve dreads to think what might come out of Villanelle's mouth next.

"Eve, what's going on?" Villanelle asks. "Why don't you ever want to celebrate your birthday?"

"Because I just don't, okay?" Eve's not talking about this. She's never talked about this before with anyone, and today isn't going to be the day she starts.

"The other day, Elena told me about the time she and Kenny tried to throw you a little party only for you to turn them away at the door, and now you're trying to do the same to me. And anyone else might think, 'okay, so maybe she's just a very grumpy lady,' but I know you, Eve, and you're not. So what is it?"

Eve wants to snap at Villanelle and tell her to go away again. She wants to run upstairs and lock herself in her bedroom until Villanelle has no choice but to leave. But something tells Eve that Villanelle won't leave. Something tells her that Villanelle will stay here as long as it takes. Because Villanelle cares about her. Why does Villanelle care about her so much?

"This is about your mom, isn't it?" Villanelle asks with a knowing look, and Eve can only stare at her, because they're talking about this, aren't they, and Eve doesn't think she'll ever be ready.

"You never talk about her," Villanelle continues on. "The only thing I even know about her is that she died when you were five. So, tell me more."

It's phrased like a command, and Eve wants to scoff at Villanelle's audacity, but she can't. Villanelle's voice is so soft as she says it, and no one has ever asked Eve about her mom before, not like this. No one has ever cared about Eve enough to stay with her on her birthday, even after she turned them away. And maybe that's what she's been looking for all along.

"The last birthday I ever had with her was when I turned five." Eve drops down into her chair at the kitchen table in defeat. "I remember she took me for ice cream. I got chocolate ice cream with chocolate sprinkles, and it was the best ice cream I ever had. I was so excited and so happy, and she was too. I could see it in her eyes, you know? She was happy, and she loved me. And I thought she was the most amazing person in the whole world. On the way home, we stopped at the grocery store, and she let me pick out a balloon. Blue was my favorite color, so I picked a blue one just like the one I have now, and she tied it to my chair when we got home and wrote 'I love you' on it in Sharpie. And it meant the world to me."

Eve doesn't even realize she's crying until Villanelle is in the chair beside her, gently wiping her tears away.

"So that's what you do on your birthdays," Villanelle murmurs. "Recreate that day."

"But there wasn't any cake." Eve shakes her head, pulling away from Villanelle as fresh tears fall. "I don't remember the cake. I mean, there must have been cake, right? But I can't remember it. I don't remember having cake with my mom. The only cake I remember having is with my foster families and their stupid sad party hats and bratty kids and unenthusiastic parents. I don't want to remember that. So I can't have cake."

Villanelle gets up from her seat without a word, but Eve barely notices. At some point during her rant, Eve started glaring at the cake mix box Villanelle set down on the table, trying to force it out of existence. Only when Villanelle returns to the table does Eve finally give up on trying to destroy the box with the force of her glare and turn to see Villanelle reaching for Eve's balloon with a Sharpie in her hand. Eve makes a mad dash for her wrist to stop her, not wanting Villanelle to ruin something that's only supposed to be touched by Eve and her mom, but Villanelle twists out of her grasp.

Eve sighs in defeat. Whatever. She's done trying to save this birthday from being ruined by Villanelle.

Villanelle scribbles on the balloon for what feels like forever, and then she finally turns it around and allows Eve to see what she's written. _You're the most amazing person in the world to me._

Eve wants to say she hates it, wants to tell Villanelle to stop, but she can't deny the way her heart swells when she reads those words. She can't deny that Villanelle isn't actually ruining her birthday at all. She's making it better. Eve feels like she's betraying her mom by even thinking that, but she knows in her heart that her mom wouldn't care. All her mom would want is for her to be happy, yet Eve has been doing everything in her power each year to make sure she's not. Eve's mom isn't the only person who ever cared about her. Maybe it's time she finally lets someone else all the way in.

"So…about that cake," Eve says.

Villanelle smiles brightly, and Eve can't help but smile right along with her at the excitement present in those beautiful eyes. Maybe it's finally time for Eve to create some new birthday traditions.

Villanelle excitedly grabs the cake mix box from the table, squinting at the instructions on the back. "Looks like we need one cup of water, one-third cup of vegetable oil, and three eggs."

"That's it?" Eve asks in surprise.

"That's it." Villanelle shrugs. "I figured you may not be in the mood for anything elaborate."

"Thanks," Eve says sincerely, warmth spreading through her chest.

"I really like you, Eve." Villanelle's playful demeanor drops away a bit. "You know this."

"I really like you too," Eve says, and it suddenly doesn't feel like enough.

Instead of thinking too hard about what she might be feeling for Villanelle, though, Eve pulls her in for a kiss. Her possibly growing feelings will be a topic for another day.

Villanelle eagerly reciprocates the kiss, threading her hands through Eve's hair as she so often does, and Eve pulls her even closer, sinking further into the kiss. Eve bites gently at Villanelle's lower lip, eliciting a tiny moan from her, and just like that, Villanelle is pulling away, dancing over to the counter with a twinkle in her eyes.

Eve wants to call her back over, but she doesn't want to give Villanelle the satisfaction of knowing how much of an effect she has on her, so she gets up and joins Villanelle at the counter, where Villanelle is now filling a glass up with tap water.

Eve gives her a disbelieving look. "You do realize a cup of water does not mean an actual glass full of water, right?"

Villanelle shrugs it off and pours the water down the drain, but Eve doesn't miss the way her cheeks tinge red with embarrassment.

"Then, what does it mean, Eve?" she asks.

Eve pulls a drawer open and grabs the set of red plastic measuring cups she keeps inside, holding up the big one and giving Villanelle a knowing look. "This is a cup. You've never baked before, have you?"

"Of course I have." Villanelle snatches the measuring cups from Eve, but Eve can see right through her lie.

"No, you haven't." Eve laughs. "No wonder you don't want to bake a cake from scratch."

"Tell me more about your mom," Villanelle says as she begins filling up the correct cup with water.

Eve wants to call Villanelle out on her blatantly obvious change of subject, but she decides to let her have this one.

"I don't remember much about her," Eve admits, handing Villanelle a bowl to pour the water in. "But I remember how I felt about her. I loved her so much." Eve grabs the vegetable oil and hands it to Villanelle. "I remember she used to love to sing along to her records."

Villanelle perks up at that, setting the vegetable oil down on the counter, momentarily forgotten. "I love singing too."

"Oh, yeah?" Eve raises an eyebrow at her.

Villanelle nods eagerly, pulling out her phone and putting on some upbeat pop song before pulling Eve against her. She begins to sing along horribly offkey, but Eve doesn't have the heart to tell her that. Villanelle sways to the music, and Eve sways along with her, feeling almost as if she's with her mom again. Of course, Villanelle isn't Eve's mom, but Villanelle still cares about Eve a great deal. Eve can see it in her eyes, and she thinks to herself that maybe it's okay to start spending her birthdays with someone else, as long as that someone else cares about her.

When the song ends and Villanelle moves away again to pour out the vegetable oil, Eve grabs the eggs from the fridge and starts cracking them into a different bowl. The first two eggs crack perfectly, but the third proves to be difficult, so Eve tries hitting it against the side of the bowl a little harder, and… _shit._ The egg is now all over the kitchen counter.

"Damn it!" Eve says as egg white falls onto her bare feet with a plop.

"Do you need me to crack the last one?" Villanelle asks with an infuriating smirk.

"As if you would even know how," Eve huffs.

Villanelle scoffs. "How hard can it be?"

"Usually not very," Eve says, "but it can clearly also be very easy to make a mess."

"It's not that big of a mess, Eve," Villanelle points out.

"You're not the one who has raw egg all over her feet," Eve shouts in indignation.

"I'm sure it's not—" Villanelle never gets to finish her sentence, because Eve has scooped up the mess from the counter and thrown it at Villanelle's face.

For a moment, Villanelle is speechless, and Eve's eyes widen in surprise at herself. Then, a devilish smirk spreads across Villanelle's face. "Oh, you'll wish you never did that."

Villanelle submerges her hands into the eggs in the bowl beside Eve, and Eve takes off running, screaming at the top of her lungs for no one to hear. Just as Eve is about to exit the kitchen, Villanelle grabs her wrist with slimy fingers, spinning her around and running her eggy hands all throughout Eve's curly hair. Eve shrieks, trying to twist away from her, but Villanelle is too strong, pulling Eve closer against her and going in for a kiss.

"Stop it!" Eve turns her head away so Villanelle's lips press against her cheek instead. "You can't kiss me with raw egg all over your lips. We'll get salmonella."

"I guess you should've thought about that before you tossed raw egg into my face then," Villanelle says with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Eve elbows Villanelle in the stomach to break away from her and makes a mad dash for the other door, but Villanelle is quick, catching up to her before she can and pinning her against the counter.

"No!" Eve yells, eyes wide with pretend fear.

"Yes," Villanelle says, grabbing Eve's head in her hands and pressing her slimy lips to Eve's.

Eve reaches behind her for something, anything, and she tries not to smile when her hand brushes against something cold and smooth, not wanting to open her mouth lest any bit of raw egg slip into it. Eve's fingers close around the egg behind her, and she cracks it right on top of Villanelle's head.

Villanelle pulls away in shock, mouth dropping open before quickly shutting again.

"What?" Eve shrugs. "I'm not going to be the only one with egg in my hair."

Then she takes off running, getting a much bigger head start this time.

Several egg-filled minutes later, Eve and Villanelle finally calm down enough to finish preparing the cake. After the cake has been baked and frosted and cooled (and after they've thoroughly cleaned themselves up, they're not heathens), Eve has her first taste of cake in almost two decades. And maybe there isn't a proper birthday party, and maybe there isn't any singing and candles and cheering, but Villanelle is by Eve's side, holding her hand with one hand while unceremoniously wolfing down her own slice of cake with the other, and Eve doesn't think anything has ever tasted so sweet.


End file.
